


Men With Honour, Men With Truth

by wombatpop



Category: Captain America (Movies), Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arguing, Canonical Character Death, Fist Fights, Grief/Mourning, Howling Commandos - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Operation Kino, Swearing, Violence, World War II, does it count as fluff if it makes you sad, donny's a bitch but it's ok cos of Reasons, light sprinkling of torture, suffering guaranteed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wombatpop/pseuds/wombatpop
Summary: “So, the Basterds, that’s a pretty interesting name.”“What are you guys called, the Howlers?”“Howling Commandos.”“Right.”---Operation Kino, a Basterds and Commandos joint effort.[minor edits 9/2/18]





	1. All Our Eggs In One Basket

“Alright gentleman, we haven’t got time to lose.” 

The room, filled with the tick of typewriters and idle chatter, falls quiet as Colonel Phillips enters the room. He nods at those already stood around the table, members of the Howling Commandos as well as numerous assorted military personnel, brown uniforms blending into the warm brick walls, overlaid with maps and diagrams.

“At this time I would like to brief you on your next mission. Operation Kino.”

The Colonel pauses to take a file from the table, opening and studying the first page briefly, and gestures to an officer who promptly rolls a map of France onto the table. Weights are placed on each corner. The group collectively leans inward, and the Colonel continues.

“We’ve had intel that Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi’s resident brainwasher, is holding a film premier for one of his propaganda movies. In attendance will be most of German high command, including Goebbels, Göring and Bormann, as well as several high ranking officers we know are associated with HYDRA. It looks like our friend Schmitt will be there.”

“All our eggs in one basket.” Dugan says, from his position opposite the Colonel.

“Exactly. You’re blowing up the basket.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dugan’s smile is shared by a number around the table, with Dernier releasing a satisfied chuckle.

“You’ll be dropped into France about 15 miles out of Paris. There you’ll meet with another one our units working behind enemy lines.”

“Which unit?” Morita asks.  
“Soldiers call ‘em the Bastards.”

“I’ve heard of them. I thought they were a myth.” Rogers responds.

“That’s the point, Captain. You’ll go to a village called Nadine – here.” The Colonel places a finger on the map.  
“There you’ll go to a bar called La Louisianne and rendezvous with a double agent. She’ll take you from there.”

“She?” Dugan asks.

“Yeah, actress. Bridget von Hammersmark.”

“Actress?”

The colonel ignores Dugan’s pleasant surprise and continues.

“Now, I know you boys don’t like to be split up. But we’re only gonna need Rogers, Barnes, and Dernier.”

“What?” Dugan exclaims.

“Sir, I could help-“

“I know, Jones. I know.” He raises a hand for calm and addresses Jones and Morita, who, whilst silent, is clearly irritated. “But there’s just no way we could get you two anywhere near that premier without attracting attention.” 

He looks to Falsworth and then to Dugan. “This mission doesn’t need you.”

“Colonel-”

“This is not a negotiation, Private.” 

He looks to the chosen trio.  
“Get ready.”


	2. Arrival: Part I

“Captain Steve Rogers?”

Raine approaches Rogers as the Commandos arrive, exactly when expected, quickly discarding their parachutes. 

 

“That’s me.” Rogers offers an outstretched hand, which Raine accepts. “Lieutenant Aldo Raine.” 

He turns and looks to each Basterd as they are introduced, left to right. “This is Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz, Corporal Wilhelm Wicki, and Sergeant Donny Donowitz.”   
While Stiglitz and Wicki nod as their names are called, Donowitz remains still, eyes unwavering. Rogers nods to the group. 

“This is Sergeant James Barnes, and Jacques Dernier. He’s our explosives expert.”

“Pleased to meet ya.” Rogers struggles to decide if Raine is being courteous or mocking through his thick accent.

“So what’s the plan?” Rogers asks, and all look to Raine.

“First we get to Nadine. We’ll get more information from our contact at 1800 hours.”

“Right.” There’s a beat of quiet and Rogers gestures to Raine to lead the way. The Basterds turn, all with the same serene expressions, and walk. Steve and Bucky exchange a look. Who are these Basterds?


	3. Arrival: Part II

“Wait, wait, wait. So you’re telling me there’s been crazy super-weapons floating around and no one thought to tell us?”

Rogers answers Donowitz’ question with a shrug. “I guess it was need-to-know.”

The first meeting of the Commandos and the Basterds was going better than either group expected. Raine’s concern that the groups would clash was so far untrue. But it had only been twenty minutes.

The Commandos soon found that their slightly chilly reception from Donowitz was no indication of shyness, with the Bear Jew quickly filling the air as the groups begin the walk to Nadine.

“So these weapons, what can they do?” Wicki asks.

“Vaporise you, explode you into a thousand pieces.” Barnes offers.

“They’re more powerful than any other weapon. They can wipe out a whole infantry in minutes. Which is why they need to be destroyed.” Rogers states.

“So you guys have mostly been targeting these new weapons, factories, warehouses?”

“Yes.” Barnes again responds to Wicki.

 

There’s a pause before Rogers asks something of the Basterds.

“What sort of objectives have you been hitting?”

“Killing Nazis.” Donowitz and the other Basterds laugh at his comment.

“That’s it?” Barnes blurts.

All of the Basterds turn, expression on the other side of pissed off, now.

“I mean-“

“That not enough?” Donowitz asks, loudly, almost yelling.  
Raine interjects a cautionary, “Sergeant”, and Donowitz turns back to the road.  
“No-.” Barnes scrambles to recover and settles for silence. He didn’t mean to sound so dismissive.

“There used to be ten of us, you know.” Wicki adds. 

Talk ceases, and the Commandos spend the hour journey sitting in that knowledge, watching the damaged gait of the four remaining Basterds.


	4. Smithson Utivich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Alcohol

Utivich attempted to lead Donny away from their dwindling liquor supply as Donny insisted he was about to die whilst also assuring Utivich that he was fine, because "I can handle my liquor" but "I think I've broken a kidney". 

"Some German bastard's poisoned me, Uti."  
"Sure, Donny."

Utivich attempts to lay Donny gently on his makeshift bed but he ends up slumping violently onto the dirt. Donny groans and Utivich attempts to push him into position.

“C’mon, Donny, help me out here.”

Donny groans again, and rolls ungracefully over. Utivich throws Donny’s jacket over his chest, tucking a wayward arm to his side.

“There. Alive yet?”

“Uti… Utivich.” Donny looks up at him, and his eyes seem suddenly less cloudy now.

“Smithson Utivich.”

“That’s me.” Donny feebly pats the ground next to him. Utivich tries to seem annoyed but he can’t help but smirk. Quickly, and with quiet glances back to the rest of the group, he pulls his pack over to Donny’s. Most of the others are only swigging out of muscle memory now, with Hirschberg asleep sitting up and Ulmer outstretched, face down, half his face mashed against the cold dirt.

Utivich lays down facing Donny, and Donny reaches up a hand and strokes his cheek with astonishing gentleness for someone so strong and intoxicated.

“Smithson Utivich.” He murmurs, eyes only half open. Utivich smiles and places his hand over Donny’s. They fall asleep to the sound of Aldo’s last moonshine story for the evening, Ulmer’s intermittent snores, and their hearts beating in sync with one another, the closest thing to peace in the warzone to end all warzones.

 

Fourteen hours later, Smithson Utivich was dead.


	5. Don't Worry

“You said it was a bar.” Raine looks out of the window of the bombed house-turned-hideout and frowns.  
“It is a bar.”  
Raine turns to glare at Rogers, his answer clearly unsatisfactory. “Yeah, in a basement. You know fighting in a basement offers a lot of difficulties. Number one being, you’re fighting in a basement.” 

“What if we go in there and she’s not even there?” Wicki joins them at the window, only just emerging from shadow.  
“We wait. Don’t worry. She’ll make the rendezvous.” Wicki raises his eyebrows at Rogers’ comment but doesn’t say anything. Donowitz is not so discreet.

“What makes you so sure?” Donny interjects from his position on the crumbling bed, looking sharply at Rogers, forever the optimist. Rogers does not respond, choosing instead to look back out of the window with a long breath.

The stillness of the room is broken by Stiglitz running his knife along his sharpening belt, the metallic echo seeming to fill all available space.

Wicki lights a cigarette as Barnes leans against the wall. With course hands he gingerly offers the box, but Bucky declines. Shooting glances toward Stiglitz he musters the courage, or impudence, to ask as Wicki lights his cigarette.

“Not exactly talkative, is he?”  
“You need ‘talkative’?” Wicki asks, cigarette still between his lips.  
“No. I guess not.”  
There’s a pause as Barnes continues to watch Stiglitz’ repetitive moments.  
“He just seems a little, intense.”  
Wicki joins Bucky in looking at Stiglitz and frowns slightly.  
“Is he not calm?”

“I suppose he is.”  
Wicki returns to watching the window. Barnes scans the room, full of dust and debris, and his eyes fall on Donny’s bat, propped up next to his head.

“Is that a baseball bat?”

“No, it’s Greta Garbo.”  
Wicki almost chuckles but Bucky is not deterred.

“What do you use it for?”

“What do you think? It’s not a toy like Cap’s famous shield.”

Across the room Rogers’ shoulders tighten. Barnes looks to Wicki for explanation and Wicki shrugs, speaking almost at a whisper. “He’s been like that ever since Utivich was shot.”

Donny gives Wicki a look that would scare the bravest of men, and Wicki purposefully shuts his mouth and turns to the window. When Donny looks to Bucky, he does the same.

“So Wicki and Stiglitz get in trouble in there, what’re we supposed to do, make bets on how it all comes out?”

“If they get into trouble, we just need to make sure no one gets out of that basement.” Rogers states.

“If Von Hammersmark’s cover is compromised, you can kiss all those dead Nazis goodbye.” Barnes’ comment attracts no laughs in the building tension.

“Speaking of Von Hammersmark, who’s idea was it for the death-trap rendezvous?”

“She chose the location.”

“Ah, well isn’t that just dandy.”

“She’s just an actress.”  
With only a glare from Donowitz in response, the room stagnates, the inhabitants paralysed until the time to leave has come.


	6. Fresh Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: lil bit of torture

Raine throws the table of surgical instruments across the room and Rogers almost flinches. With dogs barking and Bridget screaming the walls seem likely to burst, fresh wounds pushing against perpendicular angles, what was once stable now flexible.

“Now before we yank that slug out ya, you need to answer a few questions.”

“A few questions about what?”

“About how I got two dead men back there, and why don’t you try telling us what the fuck happened?”

“The Gestapo major found us out. There was nothing I could do.”

“Why’d you invite my men to a rendezvous in a basement with a bunch of Nazis?”

Bridget squirms under Raine’s interrogating stare. “I can see since you didn’t see what happened inside that the Nazis being there must look odd.”

“Yeah, we got a word for that kinda odd in English, it’s called ‘suspicious’.”

With wide eyes following him, Aldo extends one grubby finger towards Bridget’s bleeding leg and presses.

“Hey!” Rogers leaps forward as Bridget screams, reaching for the Lieutenant in indignation. Donowitz meets him before he can reach Raine, Rogers’ unpreparedness for the assault the only reason for the steps he loses.  
Jacques shouts French exclamations from the corner, joining the chorus of screams and barks. The veterinarian shudders and turns to the wall.

“You’re letting your imagination get the better of you! You met the sergeant yourself! Willi, you remember him, don’t you?”  
“Yeah, I remember him.”

Rogers easily shoves Donowitz away. “Stop! This is torture!”

“He just be-, become a father. His commanding officer gave him the night off.”

Bucky’s hand slams into Donowitz’ shoulder as he attempts to approach Rogers again, and Donowitz’ fist swings towards his face in response, Bucky only just ducking in time. On Donowitz’ next swing, he isn’t so lucky.

“The Germans being there was either a trap set by me, or a tragic coincidence. It couldn’t be both.”

Raine digs his finger in further and Rogers knocks him towards the wall with Bridget’s screams ringing in his ears.

 

Quiet falls with Steve’s hands on Aldo’s collar and Donny standing over Bucky’s bleeding face.

“Captain, get your hands off m-”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t just torture people and think that’s okay!”

“You have your methods, Captain.” Raine takes hold of Roger’s wrist and tugs his fingers off of his collar. “We have ours.”

Rogers steps back in a stunned, disgusted silence. Raine wipes the neat circle of blood positioned around one fingertip on his trousers and approaches Bridget again.

Behind him, Bucky stands, eyeing Donowitz, who seems to have lost interest now that the moment is over, retreating to the other side of the table. Bucky’s attempts to minimise bleeding have conspicuously failed, with blood spilt over his mouth and chin, and hands covered in crimson. 

“You okay?” Rogers asks Bucky.  
“Yeah.”

Raine and Rogers exchange glares before Raine resumes his interrogation.

“How’d you intend to get them in that premier?”

“Hand me my purse.” Donowitz retrieves Bridget’s purse, Bucky taking a conspicuous step back when he walks past. Bridget sits up slightly, grunting, and hands a handful of papers to Raine.

“One was going as my escort, the other as a German cameraman.”

“You still get us in that premier?”

“Do you speak German better than your friends? No. Have I been shot? Yes. I don’t see me tripping the light fantastique up a red carpet anytime soon, least of all tomorrow night.”

Aldo peruses the invites and shakes his head.

“However, there’s something you don’t know. There’ve been two recent developments regarding Operation Kino. One, the venue has been changed from the Ritz to a much smaller venue.”

“Enormous change at the last minute? That’s not very Germanic. Why the hell is Goebbels doing stuff so damn peculiar?”

“It probably has something to do with the second development.”

“Which is?”

“The Fuhrer is attending the premier.”

“Fuck a duck!” “Shit.” Donowitz and Bucky exclaim simultaneously.

Raine exhales.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking getting a whack at planting ol’ Uncle Adolf makes this horse a different colour.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Barnes and Rogers feels like asking the same question.

“It means you’re getting us in that premier.”

“I’m probably going to end up losing this leg. Bye-bye acting career, fun while it lasted. How do you expect me to walk the red carpet?”

“Doggy doc’s gonna dig that slug outcha gam. He’s gonna wrap it up in a cast. You got a good ‘how I broke my leg mountain climbing’ story, that’s German, ain’t it? Y’all like climbing mountains, don’t ya?”

“I don’t. I like smoking, drinking and ordering in restaurants. But I see your point.”

“Ok. We’ll fill you up with morphine till it’s coming out your ears. You just slip your little ass up that rouge carpet.”

“I know this is a silly question before I ask it, but, can you Americans speak any language other than English?”

“I speak French.” All look to Rogers.

“You’ve had your face on every on every street corner, someone might recognise ya.” Rogers presses his lips together but accepts.

“We both speak a little Italian.” Donny offers, gesturing to Raine.

“With an atrocious accent, no doubt. But that doesn’t exactly kill us in the crib. Germans don’t have a good ear for Italian.”

“So you mumble Italian and brazen through it, is that the plan?”

“That’s about it.”

“That sounds good.”

“Sounds like shit. But what else we gonna do, go home?”

“No, that sounds good. If you don’t blow it, with that I can get you in the building. Who does what?”

“Well, I speak the most Italian so, I’ll be your escort. Donowitz speaks the second most so he’ll be your Italian cameraman. Barnes, third most. He’ll be Donny’s assistant.”

“I don’t speak Italian.”

Donowitz looks to Barnes with a sour expression as Raine replies.

“Like I said, third best. Just keep your fucking mouth shut.”


	7. Indifferent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: blood? everywhere?

The cell is tiny, far too small for someone as large at the Bear Jew. His filthy skin convulses from the cold. All of his muscles strain, pushing desperately against the door. Average sized, the door takes up almost an entire wall of his cell. He frantically grips the wall around the door, finding nothing but paint and dust. The pressure is almost unbearable, his spine shrieks for release, teeth pressing so hard on one another he’s sure they’ll crack. Red liquid seeps under the door, as bright as cherry cordial, and his feet begin to slip. He hears a noise, and begins to shout, for anyone, anyone please, please help. And then he hears him.

“Donny?”

The door bursts at the edges, finally giving way. A wave of crimson floods the room and Donny screams but the voice never returns. The wave is in his ears, lapping at his throat, almost up to his mouth and it’s warm, but he’s never wished more for cold. He takes a deep breath but once the wave reaches the ceiling it doesn’t last long. His mouth is abruptly filled with copper. He can feel the blood trying to push behind his eyes and he tries to scream but there’s no sound, no escape, nothing he can do but feel it make its way down to his lungs and know that he must deserve it.

-

Donny wakes with a start, gasping for breath, and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes to keep himself from weeping.

“Can’t sleep?” Rogers’ expression is innocent but his tone is pointed.  
“Fuck. Off.”

Donny stands abruptly and takes just a few steps before stopping sharply and standing, fists clenching and unclenching, eyes shut, chest heavy with deep breaths. Rogers’ expression remains calm, but his mouth downturns in a quiet distaste at Donny’s back.

“How’re you feeling?”

Rogers shrugs.

“You didn’t want to go up the red carpet did you?” Barnes asks in feign concern.

Rogers smiles weakly. “Can’t say it’s something I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Didn’t want to get a closer look at the propaganda machine?”

“Trust me, I know all about the propaganda machine.”

They chuckle softly, but this seems to agitate Donowitz further, and he turns.

“Oh well isn’t that sad. Taken in by the army. Made super and they never even thanked him for it.”

“What’s your problem?” Rogers asks, standing.

“My problem?”

“Steve-“ Bucky reaches to grasp Rogers’ arm but he’s out of reach and too determined to be stopped.

“Yeah. You know, acting like a tough guy doesn’t make you seem any less weak.” Rogers states.

“Really?” Rogers and Donowitz meet, inches between them, both with hearts pounding and red creeping up their necks.

“Running around like you know a damn thing about what we do? You’ve got no fucking clue, pal.” Somehow Donowitz’ accent becomes thicker in his anger.

“I know more than you think. Pal.”

“Oh yeah? Still too noble for bashing Nazis’ heads in, though? Huh? Too righteous for scalping?”

Rogers curls his face up in disgust.

“Yeah. Thought so.”  
Donny’s words seem to tremor in the air with the feeling they carry.  
“You haven’t done, haven’t lost shit. Stay on your fucking high horse, you coward.”

Rogers inhales sharply and shoves Donowitz hard enough onto the ground that he skids. 

How many men has he watched die? How many times has he made the tough decision, and this Sergeant still dares to call him ‘coward’? 

When Donny raises his head Rogers is on top of him, fist raised to strike.

How many times has he squinted in the face of blood, pushed through the pain to commit unspeakable acts? How many tears has he shed over this underlying torment, fighting for families for whom you know your country has only ice and apathy?

“Steve, don’t!”

Donowitz braces. But the fist never comes.

 

Bucky leads Rogers away, and Donny’s heart rate finally slows.

“Fighting before your big night?” Raine appears behind Donny, walking over and offering a hand to help him up.

“C’mon.”

Donny rises with some grunting.

“Nothing broken?”

“No, sir.”

Raine sighs.

“You really gotta to stop doing that.”


	8. Nerve

“Okay, everyone know their positions?”

“Yeah. Get into the theatre, leave the bombs, meet back at the rendezvous point.”

“And I add some explosives near the front so less chance Nazis escape the bomb.” Jacques adds.

Steve nods. His palms feel hot, radiating from where they sit on his lap. He runs an anxious set of fingers through his hair and sighs.

“We can do this.”

Donny gives Cap a civil nod, and Cap knows he won’t be picking a fight with him again, although he may not have the opportunity. The Bear Jew isn’t just a character, and Cap can see that now.   
He cannot escape, least of all for grief or love. Maybe he doesn’t want to.

For now, the tension resolves into quiet preparation, and a patience for the moment when their plan enacts, all will be rewarded.


	9. Saboteurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: use of (mega)taser

Steve sits in the car, counting the objects he can see. It feels like he’s wasted hours awaiting Jacques’ return, mind racing with a hundred thoughts a second seeming to slow time down.

A footstep and Jacques appears to his right. Cap offers a smile in relief, gesturing for Jacques to get into the car.

“Cap-“ Jacques smiles and goes to wave in return, interrupted as he abruptly falls to the ground, feet kicked out from under him.

Steve scrambles for the door as Jacques is beaten by several Nazi officers, groaning and folding into himself. A sharp burning, searing pain appears in Steve’s back as he walks around the hood of the car. His entire body contracts violently, uncontrollably. He lands on the ground with a thud and shout.

Jacques’ screams are silenced with cold efficiency, a smiling face so quickly rearranged into a distorted frown, blood dripping down his face like tears like some kind of repulsive poetry. With the burning seemingly unending, limbs still aggressively convulsing, and boots now turned on him, Cap closes his eyes.


	10. Dark

“As Stanley said to Livingstone, Lieutenant Aldo Raine, I presume.”

“Hans Landa.”

A car starts, close, very close, and Cap tries to open his eyes. Even for night, the room he’s in seems remarkably black.

“You’ve had a nice long run, Aldo. Alas you’re now in the hands of the SS. My hands to be exact. And they’ve been waiting a long time to touch you.”

There’s a beat of silence from the nearby conversation, and someone (Landa, did they say?) laughs.

“Caught you flinching!”

There’s a sharp crunching sound and another person is jostled into the truck.

“Touch me again kraut-burger.”

Cap sits up somewhat and finds his hands are bound. He feels as though he’s run a marathon, breathing far heavier than he should be.

“Is that you Lieutenant?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what happened to Bucky, Donny, Von Hammersmark?”

“No I do not.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”  
He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his mouth, head still fuzzy in some areas.

Raine pauses. “I don’t know about you, Captain, but I myself have a bag over my head.”

“Right.”

Rogers takes an extra second before speaking, forcing the words out of his mouth.

“Jacques is dead.”

Raine only exhales.


	11. End The War Tonight: Part I

“When I kill that guy you have 30ft to get to that guard. Can you do it?”

“I have to.”

Although ordered to leave the bombs and go, both Barnes and Donowitz never really intended to follow through. There was too much risk of one of the big four escaping. It was a risk they weren’t willing to take.

Bucky hands Donny a champagne glass, freshly filled with water, completing his makeshift waiter ensemble. They exchange a determined nod, as if to reassure each other of their resolve.

Donny turns the corner towards Hitler’s box, and Bucky counts down in his head.

“Champagne?”

-

Bucky peeks into the opera box, but it is clear that their shots were totally obfuscated by the gunshots on film. The sound from the theatre changes, a wave of whisper, some isolated shouts. Attempting to move the body of one of the guards, Donowitz pauses and drops him.

“They’re standing.” Bucky states, looking into the opera box once more. More muffled yelling seeps out from behind the doors.

“What’s happening?”

A roar and suddenly the audience starts to scream, a warm light falling over the opera box, so different to the cool, bright light given off by the black and white film. There’s another roar, sharper, more like an explosion, and the two men look at each other, machine guns loaded and ready.

“Now.”

-

Sweat drips down Bucky’s back and his hands ache, but gripping his gun so tight and seeing the writhing bodies of the Nazis below him go limp gives him such a sense of satisfaction he barely feels his skin beginning to burn, heart pumping so violently his entire body seems to pulsate painfully in rhythm. The Basterds’ methods seem less extreme now, reasonable and perversely fulfilling, in a bitter kind of way. A mouth filled with copper feels better than a mouth of dust, although neither may be pleasant. Taste is not considered. Action can be valued on purpose alone. And so can soldiers.

Shosanna laughs, screams echo and fade, and all is still.


	12. End The War Tonight: Part II

“Hermann, uncuff them.”

Raine rubs his wrists and scowls.

“I’m officially surrendering myself over to you. We’re your prisoners.”

Landa’s continuing cheerfulness is nothing less than unnerving, almost nauseatingly inappropriate. Raine and Rogers exchange a look, and Rogers turns to walk back to the truck.

“How about my knife?”

Rogers reaches the cabin of the truck and walks to the far side. Opening the door, he notices a pack of cigarettes tucked between the two front seats, a pack of matches neatly placed beside it.

“Thank you very much, Colonel.” Raine moves to handcuff Landa.

“Oh, is that really necessary?”

Rogers opens the packet and finds it’s only half empty. He turns and picks out a cigarette, leaning against the passenger seat, back to his companions.

“I’m a slave to appearances.” A gunshot rings out, and Cap does not blink.

The plan to leave the explosives and get to safety was never going to work. It wasn’t really the Basterds’ style, and forcing people to do something when they think they have a better plan is a great way to get them to act against your instructions. Especially with people like this.

He doesn’t know for sure though, he doesn’t know for sure that they haven’t reached the rendezvous point and are hiding, or have managed to contact someone to be extracted, or something. Anything. Anything could have happened. 

But if the worst has happened, he’s gotta deal with that. And preferably in a way that doesn’t leave him picking fights, angry and weeping all the time. Not exactly a good look for Captain America. But let’s not think about it now, not while they’re still behind enemy lines. They can grieve on the other side.

“I’m gonna give you a little something you can’t take off.”

The stillness of the trees seems to bounce Landa’s screams more readily than usual. Cap exhales, watching the smoke drift its way into the clouds, and closes his eyes, brow relaxing. To an untrained eye, his expression seems more composed than distressed, almost this side of satisfied.


	13. What Shall The History Books Read?

“Unfortunately, it looks like Schmitt missed the premier.”

“He wasn’t there?”

“No.”

An agitated sigh runs through the remaining Commandos.

“But there’s no time like the present to end the war on all fronts. Hydra’s last base is here, in the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface.”

Colonel Phillips hands around a collection of photographs depicting the Hydra base.

“Most likely that’s where Schmitt’ll be.”

“So what are we supposed to do? It’s not like we can just knock on the front door.” Morita laments.

“Why not?” Cap asks. All turn to look at him.

“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”

It could be that he’s not thinking straight. His thoughts buzz and heckle, wanting everything and nothing, for change and immobility, for everything to be different, although he knows it couldn’t have gone any other way. Barnes and he would have to be separated soon enough.  
But not like this.

They talk about when wars conclude as miracles, neat conclusions to years of horror. They don’t talk about the wars left behind.

Either way, Cap will have his ending.


End file.
